Title: Time Flight
Pairing: mild TomonorixTsukasa
Genre: Angst, romance?
Rating: Shounen-ai
Second person POV. (Blame it on my English teacher, talking about Point Of Views all day. . >. )
Summary: In which Tsukasa protects Tomonori, but Tomonori doesn't want to be protected. And everyone is very stupid.
Written by fanfiction!Shaedowe or livejournal!Morphiria
The rain pours on outside, and you worry.
Worry about the fragile boy outside. The fragile boy who cares so much about everyone else and too little about himself.
You remember, as you bend over the piles of papers on your desk – homework to mark – that it was raining the day you met him too.
You don't remember much about the day itself, but you still can hear the sound of the rain, the rasping, breathless cries to "help, help", the blood dripping, dripping, dropping everywhere.
You don't remember what happened next, but you still can see the same gratefulness in his eyes, when he sees his merciful savior, and whispers his new name.
"Amou Tsukasa."
You see it everyday, every time you look at him, and – coincidence? – he looks at you too, meeting your pensive gaze with a cheerful smile.
You always look away, cursing silently.
(You aren't supposed to do that…)
It isn't his fault; he doesn't now what he is doing to you.
(You aren't supposed to think like that…)
The way he smiles, it makes your heart do that, your stomach do that, your mind just wander…
(Your thoughts are so wrong…)
So wrong.
"Tadaima."
I'm home, he announces, so softly, his voice right next to your ear.
You jump, startled, and realize that you had fallen asleep.
He is always so soft-spoken, so kind, so nice… It is no wonder that you want to protect him with all your heart.
You really should stop thinking such unpriestly thoughts.
You smile at him softly, the way you always do. You always smile to him, because who doesn't? The permanently fragile look on his face makes all nasty words fade away, and all bitterness recede from the blackest heart.
Stop it, Nakaura.
As if you would have any nasty things to say to him anyway. As if you would find fault in anything he does.
You couldn't bear to, even if he were at fault.
Even if he was the one in the wrong, and wouldn't admit it -
That would never ever happen, Nakaura, not in a million years.
You would still protect him, insist he was right. Despite your sense of justice, of truth, of righteousness, you would go against all your principles in order to shield him from evil. To –
That's so typically selfish of you, Nakaura.
- keep him with you, forever.
He is that precious to you.
You pat him on the shoulder gently, but he winces.
Immediately, he turns away, guilty, trying to hide his moment of weakness. But, as always, it is too late: you have seen the pain in his dark, puppy-dog eyes, and you reach out to lift up his sleeve.
The pain isn't unusual, only unexpected.
There is a fresh bruise there again. Right on top of the old one - ones.
You feel the protective feeling rising up in you. You, who have never been prone to violence, want to rush over there to punch the bullies' lights out.
But you don't, because he would never allow it, and you do not want to upset him any more than he already is.
"Again, Tsukasa?"
"Ah…, gomen. It wasn't… it wasn't intentional, Tomonori-san."
And he slides off his bag, not meeting your eyes, and slips off to his room, quiet as a mouse.
Self-control, Nakaura. Self-control.
Pitter-patter, you can't hear him cry.
He can't keep silent forever.
"Tomonori-sensei is concerned about you, Tsukasa-kun."
I know that, Mana-chan.
"Tomonori-sensei will help, if you ask him to."
I know that, Mana-chan.
"Tomonori-sensei will never say no to you."
I know, Mana-chan.
"Tomonori-sensei… he is nice to you."
I know that too, Mana-chan.
"Tsukasa-kun, all you have to do is ask him."
Yes, Mana-chan.
"Tsukasa-kun… please?"
Anou, Mana-chan -
"Do it, Tsukasa-kun. For me, for us? For your mindbreaker?"
Mana-chan…
Don't start crying now, Tsukasa…
You have never been a very strong boy. Nor have you been a good boy.
You have, since young, no reason to trust anyone, and have never trusted anyone before.
You aren't quite sure how you're supposed to go about it.
You wonder if you're supposed to tell him everything.
You wonder if you're supposed to be always truthful to him.
You wonder if you could, should, would lie to him, if only to protect him…
Mana-chan tells you to ask him. She is right, after all, he would never say no to you, and you always get your way with him, whether you want to or not.
But you think you shouldn't, because it is better he doesn't know.
You don't know though, you have never had cause for these worries before.
You wonder if he trusts you.
You wouldn't blame him if he didn't; you don't exactly fulfill all the requirements of a trustworthy person at the moment:
You haven't told him everything.
You haven't told him some things, which you are supposed to tell him.
Mana-chan says so, and she is your mindbreaker, so she must be right… shouldn't she?
You haven't told him that thing, the thing that Mana-chan keeps badgering you about.
You haven't, in truth, told him anything much.
Or anything at all, for that matter.
Don't start crying now, Tsukasa…
Tears and fears and mere little nightmares
When will all this end?
He is not asleep, and the thunder roars, lightning flashes outside.
Inside, at your study desk in the room next to his, with a cup of tea to keep you properly caffeinated to last the night, you are safe.
Safe. Huh.
You wonder – secretly hoping so – if he will be needing comfort tonight.
The nightmares visit him most often then.
"Tomonori-san, anou… please can I sleep here for a while?"
You saw his tear-streaked face, white and tight with compressed fear.
You didn't bat an eyelid then, as you made space for him in your bed, but your heart-
Your heart was pounding, and your face was hot.
The weather, you distinctly remembered, then, was cold, and you no reason whatsoever to feel like that.
Except that there is a reason, and that boy is so beautiful -
This is when you abruptly slam your literature book shut – loudly, you make sure – and proceed to bang your head with it.
Self-control, Nakaura. Self-control.
You knew you should have taken the other route to school.
But you, stupidly and against your better judgment, wandered off the usual track, for some unfathomably dumb reason, and immediately regretted it.
What you see, you don't really want to remember, but you do anyway, the moment you think of it. Your mind has never had the habit of listening to you.
You watched silently, standing by, useless, as a young boy, younger than Tsukasa, looking nothing like Tsukasa, got beaten up.
Why did you keep thinking the boy was Tsukasa! He wasn't and isn't and this wasn't your business anyway and- oh…
By two people you know very well.
You wanted to turn away, sickened by all the blood flowing freely. You wanted to run in and break up the scene, as a teacher should; as a priest should.
If one E.G.O and one Dark Lore got into a fight with one Wiz-Dom, what would happen?
You, the much more rational part of you, didn't really want to find that out.
So, coward that you are, you stayed.
You were a teacher, how could you have-
But they would have won anyway, they-
How could you have let bullying take place, how-
They were more powerful than you were, and-
Right before your very eyes, and you were staring straight at-
It was inevitable that this would one day happen-
There is something very wrong with both sides of your brain. They aren't supposed to argue with each other, but then, since they always do, this is reasonably normal for you.
Reasonably.
You watched, the boy, breathing, in, out, in, out, shallowly, trying and trying to stay conscious, for who would know what would happen when he fainted?
Would they kill him? You find that you don't find this too hard to believe. Were you evil for letting that take place?
You find your breathing as shallow as the boy's, as you imagine people finding the dead body, shouting, finding him, here, hiding, invisible, not powerless and yet not willing to do anything.
What would they think? Would they think that you were the killer?
Abruptly, the sniggers and laughter and pounding stopped, to the sound of running footsteps.
"Shit. And just when it got fun." They laughed.
And then the bullies were gone, and in their place, Mana and Tsukasa appeared.
Only they didn't start beating-
You didn't think they would, didn't think you would be able to handle it if they did, which was entirely impossible…
Mana started crying, wailing, sobbing, heart-wrenchingly, burying her face in her hands and sinking to the ground.
"Doushite…?" You heard her distinctly. Why?
Tsukasa, your sweet, dear, innocent Tsukasa, looked in awe at the bloody boy. And his expression twisted, twisted into one that even you couldn't read. You, who had trained yourself to read him better than an open book, couldn't see what he was thinking.
You felt afraid.
You wanted to go over to reassure Mana, your mindbreaker, and Tsukasa, your… what? Friend? Brother? Son?
…Lover?
You watched silently as Tsukasa bent down, and gently reached a firm hand over to the now unconscious boy.
A gentle light shone from his hand, and the boy seemed to relax more. And you suddenly understood the pain in Tsukasa's eyes.
The boy fell into a healing sleep, and Tsukasa, surreptitiously ignoring Mana's cries, wiped off all the blood off the boy's face, hands and legs.
You stared. This was a different Tsukasa from the side you had always known. This Tsukasa was strong; he didn't cringe at the sight of blood.
And why would he, when it was so familiar?
Having removed most of the blood, he gently picked the young boy up and laid him on a nearby park bench.
Slowly, he made his way over to Mana, and patting her on her shoulder, comforted her with small smiles, and turning his back on you in your cowardly hiding place, and started in the direction of school.
It is only then that you realize that this isn't the normal route they take to school.
It is a ritual, you realize. A ritual, Nakaura, you old baka.
And repetitions shall wind and unwind.
This is the ever ending circle.
You are surprised to see an empty house, when you arrive home from school.
"To- Tomonori-san?"
Your voice echoes around the house.
Tomonori-san's presence has always been more conspicuous when absent.
But this is better anyway. You won't have to act.
Act like everything's alright, and you haven't spent the whole day, the whole week, leeched of your energy, because you were not meant to do repeated healings.
You stumble up to your room, and prepare to flop onto the bed.
But you stop at the door, and stare.
Tomonori-san is there, sitting at your seat, next to your desk, in your room.
And he is holding in his hands, your diary.
He freezes, as he catches sight of you. His eyes don't move, and hands lower slowly to his sides, and lowly, second by second, centimetre by centimetre, it tumbles through the air.
You barely catch it in time.
Inside you, an inexplicable feeling forms and takes shape, a feeling you have not felt for so long, you have forgotten what it was like.
Fury consumes its maker, you remember that from somewhere.
It blinds you, this red. This red like blood and blood like red and you cannot see clearly or hear, not that there would have been much to hear.
And you run, tumbling, stumbling, step by step, over and over and away and away. You cannot see where you are going, but you don't care. You just want to be away.
Away, so you cannot harm him, the one who has betrayed your trust.
Away, so he cannot see that you're hurt.
Away, anywhere, so you can, as you have wanted all week, escape…
Away, away, away, Tsukasa. Away.
The ground splatters with mud, with blood, with tears, with rain.
And you are running, and wondering, why there is blood?
Or maybe, maybe it's just you, and you're going mad, from the stress.
And maybe you belong in an asylum, or maybe you are in an asylum, and you're just imagining all this.
This cannot be real, you pray. This cannot be real.
The ground is wet, you slip, you see black, red, brown, all mixed together, a whirlpool of insanity.
And then, thankfully, you see nothing at all.
Away, Tsukasa. Away and where?
All the pain and nothing to gain.
This world is better off dead.
The rain has started, but it only occurs to you that you are wet and you should have brought along an umbrella when you are two streets away from your house.
By that time, it is too late to go back, anyhow.
You do not want to lose Tsukasa, you dear sweet innocent, and now hurt Tsukasa.
As you stumble and slip along, in the rain, you reflect, and you think and you realize how stupid the world is.
You wanted to protect the person most precious to you, and you pushed that person away.
You wanted Tsukasa to trust you, and you betrayed that trust.
You loved someone that you weren't supposed to love, and this is your punishment.
Stupid, baka Nakaura. Stupid.
You slip and slide until you find him, and you battle the rain.
He is lying, still as a corpse, white and peaceful.
You cannot have lost him, he is too precious.
He fits in your arms so easily, and so rightfully.
He does not stir, and he does not breathe, and yet you know he lives, and will live.
You will not allow him to go before you, and that is enough reason.
Isn't life strange, Nakaura?
Live to last this battle.
But why, when we could just end it now?
The world is full of surprises.
You remember you went to sleep in a maze of coloured confusion, yet you wake up, safe and sound, in a white, washed room.
Your awareness probes before you wake, but you have felt him, and he has felt you, and your eyes need not flicker open.
You hear him shoo the rest out of the room: all concerned friends, but none as concerned as Mana.
You hear her shrill voice asking, questioning, doubting. You jerk a finger in response, and Mana smiles, satisfied.
The room is empty, except for two, you and him.
The white seems appropriate, somehow. In a world with both of you, colour and sight and sound are extras in an empty set, background fillers in a world complete with just the two.
"Baka." You have not cursed in a long time; you have never cursed before.
Your eyes, now open and trusting, reveal that you are not angry, and he understands. He always does, and you expect him to. There is no surprise anywhere, everywhere.
"It must run in the family." He smiles, and fingers brush fingers as he shuffles closer. It does not need to be said that you are not family, and you understand as well; it is as he expects you to.
And when his breath is so close, and lips touch lips, you want to stay in this white world forever.
And white snow is falling,
You are so close
I want to freeze time
In this eternally cold warmth.
Please leave a review. 'Tis the first time writing a Juvenile Orion fic, yep.
Author's Note: It says 'ever ending circle' in one of the bold parts. It means just that. Not never-ending.